


Wanting Only You

by DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered, thebraveandthebroiled



Series: A History of the Senses: A 5 + 1 About Daphne Kluger [5]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 04:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16256786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered/pseuds/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebraveandthebroiled/pseuds/thebraveandthebroiled
Summary: Daphne learns about seeing and being seen.This is a bit long for a single installment but you guys have been very patient while we've been dealing with some IRL stuff.  So please enjoy this in it's entirety.  :)





	Wanting Only You

“So you were just… out there, with your acting coach, the whole time?”

Daphne grinned and nodded.  “She was great. I really learned a lot.  And it gave me a lot of time to think and feel and garden and write letters, and–”

Chris laughed out loud, and took Daphne’s hand across the table at La Ronde, smiled at her fondly, and shook his head.  “Letters? To who?”

She sighed.  “Oh, you know.  People. Mostly Rose Weil, actually.”  Her texts with Rose over the last few weeks had been increasingly flirtatious, and Daphne almost blushed saying her name.  She’d sent some poetry that caused Rose to stop responding to texts for about ten minutes before she responded with, _well… that… was lovely._

Chris nodded.  “She dressed you for the Met Gala, didn’t she?”

“She did.  And a few other times after that.  She’s… God, you know, she’s just really brilliant… we have a really nice creative chemistry, and do you know she’s never stuck me, not even once?”  

Chris whistled, impressed.

“She did such a beautiful job at the Gala, it’s too bad you had to miss it.”  Daphne was already thinking about their airport reunion later that day.

He sighed heavily.  “Yeah, well, I had to go camping two days before like a jackass, and wind up in the hospital with anaphylactic shock.”

“I remember.”  Daphne placed her other hand over his.  “Chris Oak Hospitalized with Poison Oak.  The tabs had fun with that.”

He wrinkled his nose.  

She glanced around casually, her eyes scanning the room for the paps that would be here after Frieda leaked the information of their lunch date to them.  “Do you think we’ve done enough cutesy hand-holding?” she wondered aloud.

Chris shrugged.  “Probably, but let’s wait till the food gets here before we stop.”

Daphne and Chris had been in a movie together when she was barely out of braces, and they’d followed a fairly similar career track.  It was nice to be relying on him for this Cameron Caine business. “Thanks again for doing this.”

“Hey listen,” he chuckled, “I need to be seen out with someone too.  I can’t have the world thinking I’m still pathetic and heartbroken over Rainy.”

Chris was on the long tail end of a very nasty, very public break-up with one of Ariana Grande’s backup dancers, and he’d spent long enough brooding about it.  “Well, I’m glad we can be each other’s beards,” Daphne joked.

He half-raised an eyebrow.  “So, why is it that you didn’t have a date for this?  I was a little surprised when Frieda’s people called.”

She waved her free hand.  “Been married to my work.”

“Living in the suburbs writing letters,” he replied skeptically.

“Well yeah, but before that I was doing press junkets and then before that I was filming Grapes of Wrath.”

He nodded.  “So, are you stoked for Saturday?”

“Eh, you know.  I mean, yes. I like the whole red carpet thing, of course.  I think. Mostly I’m excited that Rose Weil is coming back from Europe to dress me.  She’s–”

“A genius, you said,” Chris teased.

Daphne smirked.  “Yeah.”

They weren’t close, but Chris had been the closest thing she’d had to a friend until she’d found herself in the crew.  Certainly he was the closest thing she’d had to a friend in the business.

Their entrees came, borne on overly large plates by overly obsequious waiters (this of course was why one dined at La Ronde).  Daphne saw a few paps across the street with their long damn lenses. _Good,_ she thought.   _This ought to hit the tabs by tomorrow._

 

*******

 

She sat in the back of the town car that was headed to the airstrip where Rose was coming in.  She’d apparently hitched a ride on Mick Jagger’s jet, which from her texts, she seemed very amused by.  Daphne could have sent a car for her but she didn’t want to wait to see her.

A text came in from Frieda:   _I hope you had a nice lunch, Chris Oak is such a mensch.  Why aren’t you two dating again?_

Daphne shook her head and texted back:   _It was a nice lunch, and he is a mensch, but we’re just friends.  Besides, he’s not over Rainy._

_But you know Marv Shlossman is trying to get him into Ang Lee’s Hamlet, right?_

Daphne groaned.   _Knock it off Frieda, you can’t take 15% of a boyfriend_  

_I can’t help it I’m a yenta_

She peered through the tinted window and saw the valets with a rolling cart and Rose stepping off the plane as if she owned the place, at least until her heel caught on the second to last step and she nearly faceplanted into her luggage.  The car drew closer and she watched Rose saying goodbyes. Daphne had met Jagger once. She’d decided it was enough.

The car rolled up and Daphne rolled the window down and waved.  “Rosey Rose!” Her heart felt like a shake weight. She was suddenly beset with anxiousness.  She realized: she and Rose were going to be together in Los Angeles for five whole days and she had no idea what was going to happen.

The driver stepped out of the car and loaded Rose’s things into the back: a large suitcase, a black leather portfolio roughly the size of a bay window, and another smaller shoulder bag.  Rose didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door. She flung it open and looked at Daphne for a moment.

“It’s not safe to be hanging around private air strips alone, young lady,” Daphne scolded playfully.

“Well, mind if I catch a ride with you, then?  You only look a bit dodgy.”

“I _am_ only a bit dodgy.”

“I’ll take my chances, then.”

She slid into the car and pulled the door shut behind her.  They leaned in for a long hug. Daphne took in her perfume, the same perfume that had lingered on her fingers after opening Rose’s letters.  And then she shifted back a little, smiled shyly at her, and gave her a soft, sweet kiss.

Her nerves sat up in surprise, demanding to know what this dizzying tenderness was.  Time became slow like honey and she closed her eyes, enjoying it. And then the car started, and they jolted a little, and knocked their foreheads together.  Not painfully, just awkwardly.

“I’m really happy that you’re here,” she confessed in a small voice.  

“Happy to be here,” Rose answered, cheerful but with a gentleness matching Daphne’s sudden vulnerability.  “Not because I like L.A., mind you. It’s too bloody hot, you can’t breathe and it’s ugly as sin.” She stopped, and looked at Daphne, fondly.  “But I’m happy to be with you.”

They kissed again, more briefly this time, and then Daphne drew her close and Rose rested her head on on Daphne’s shoulder.  They clasped hands and stayed quiet the rest of the way to Rose’s hotel. Daphne was happy to simply be near her, and was not ready for more just now.  Rose seemed truly glad to see her, but also somehow a little cautious. Perhaps she was still hesitant to get too invested when she didn’t know whether Daphne was ready for more than what they’d had up till now.  Daphne, in truth, didn’t know if she was ready either.

 

***

 

A handful of the tabloids had managed to print that Daphne was being dressed by Rose Weil yet again, so it hardly raised any eyebrows at all when Daphne was seen with her.  She’d asked Frieda to try and keep the tabs off of her, and since she’d scheduled a few lunches with Chris in the meantime, that was red meat to keep them busy.

They sat on a couch in Rose’s suite, looking at a series of sketches that Rose had done in advance for proposed designs.  “I’ll say right up front,” she told Daphne, “I’m not happy with any one of them.”

Daphne frowned.  She hadn’t seen Rose’s sketches the other times.  Rose had simply come in and did what she did. She wondered if this pickiness and dissatisfaction was normal for this stage of things.  “They’re all beautiful,” she said, leafing through the large portfolio pages. Rose’s lines were dramatic, her sensibilities old fashioned in a way that was timeless. And her drawing hand was clearly as steady as her stitching hands.  Daphne’s eye could see the cleanliness of her lines and the confidence in her strokes.

She caught herself for a moment, looking at Rose’s hands.  Small, twitchy, and full of miraculous genius, like the rest of her.  

Rose pshawed and touched her arm casually, remarking, “Not half as lovely as London.”

Daphne’s breath caught.  “London was lovely,” she agreed.  After a pause, she added, “And I don’t only mean the dress.”

Rose, for maybe the first time Daphne had noticed, blushed.  

Daphne took her hands, and looked at her, earnest and open.  “Rose… how did you… do that?”

Rose sighed and laughed.  “I wish I knew, love!” She squeezed Daphne in response.  “You just… responded to my touch so I kept touching and…” She faltered, and then rebounded with a shy, shaky little, “...voila.”

Daphne smiled.  She leaned close, and then kissed her, taking in the flavor of lip gloss and whiskey.  “Did you… I mean…” She had so many questions, she couldn’t quite form them all. “You didn’t mean to?”

Rose kissed her for a long moment before responding.  “Never, no, not a thought in my head. A movie star, twenty years my junior, why would I?”  One of her skittering hands worked itself free and made a jittery little path up Daphne’s neck and settled itself in her hair.  “And I didn’t assume a bloody thing when it was over. I fully assumed it was a beautiful moment that would never happen again.”

Daphne frowned.  “I wasn’t ready for it to happen again, not right away.  It took me a long time.”

Rose pulled back and looked fondly at her.  “I know, _macushla_ ,” she whispered. “But at some point, it became clear that it meant something to you.”

Daphne smiled and color rose in her cheeks to hear Rose call her that endearment in her sweet, tremulous lilt. “When was that?” she asked in a small voice.

“Mm, when you drunk dialed me that night, I think.”

They lost themselves in another long, soft kiss.  Daphne’s heart was floating somewhere that she couldn’t quite keep hold of it.

“I saw you,” Rose whispered in between their gentle kisses, “that night, and knew that it was only a matter of patience.”

“What was?”

“You, coming to me.  Wanting to love and be loved.”  

Daphne’s body began gearing up for something more than a little soft kissing, and she pulled back for a moment.  “Rosey Rose,” she whispered. “I don’t want to wear something you’re not happy with. How can I help you feel good about these beautiful designs?”

Rose pulled back, and Daphne saw her face change.  Something else flicked on in Rose’s brain, and her creative mind was firing again; bright, sparkling, mercurial, driven by something that was just offscreen that Daphne couldn’t quite see.  “You can’t. I need inspiration. None of these are the one.”

Daphne was perplexed.  “So what, then?”

“A field trip.”

 

****

 

Shoshanna’s Costume Rescue sat in an unassuming warehouse about half an hour from Daphne’s bungalow in the Hills, and contained a jaw-dropping assortment of outfits from famous movies (and not so famous ones).  Oftentimes after a film was done with, the costumes weren’t saved, because of space considerations, and sometimes the studios couldn’t be bothered to auction them off, so they’d either be discarded, or, as was more often the case with the more interesting or exciting pieces, Shoshanna Margolis would rescue them.  Daphne had never been to Shoshanna’s, but had heard of it. Shoshanna, a middle-aged hippie with the biggest, grayest Jewfro Daphne had ever seen, seemed to know Rose pretty well.

“Rose Weil,” she greeted her, “I haven’t seen you since the red carpet for The English Patient.”

Rose swatted at the sleeve of Shoshanna’s dashiki.  “It hasn’t been that long, you troll. Still wearing this nonsense, I see.”  

Shoshanna shrugged.  “Some things never change.  It’s good. Order to the universe.”  She paused and gazed at Daphne. “Daphne Kluger.”  She looked impressed. She glanced back at Rose. “You’re dressing her?”

“For Cameron Caine,” Daphne explained.  

Shoshanna nodded.  “I think I know what you want to look at.”  She turned, waving at them to follow her. “Follow me.”  

They walked down the seemingly endless aisles of costumes.  “If you show me the Les Miserables section again–” Rose began in a warning tone.

Shoshanna snorted.  “She of little faith,” she scolded.  “Look, I know you like that ruffly shit, and waistcoats and stuff, but that’s not right for Cameron Caine.”  They turned a corner, and Shoshanna led them into a small room off the main drag. She flicked a switch and some very loud fluorescent lights hummed to life overhead.

Daphne gasped.  

“This is the money room,” Shoshanna said.  “I think this is what you should be looking at, Rose.”

Along one wall stood an assortment of tuxes and smoking jackets.  Along the others were a veritable bevy of slinky, sparkly evening gowns and a leather catsuit.  Daphne pointed to it. “Is that–?”

“Yep,” Shoshanna answered proudly.  “That would be one of the leather catsuits worn by Diana Rigg in the The Avengers TV show.  God, they really got the clothes right.”

Daphne’s mouth hung open a little as she gazed around the room.  “And the rest?”

“Well, that whole wall is stuff from Thunderball.”  She pointed to a beautiful white gown. “Claudine Auger’s gown right there, I love that piece.”

Sixties spy stuff.  It was brilliant. Rose was snapping pictures with her phone and frantically scribbling sketches in a small notepad in her hand.  

Daphne slipped up behind her and leaned down.  “What do you think?” She let her lips brush against Rose’s ear as she whispered into it.

Rose shivered a little at the touch but barely stopped sketching.  “I think sixties spy stuff is a bloody good idea, that’s what.”

“You gonna dress me like a Bond girl?”

Rose’s voice was a little coy.  “Well, you’re just going to have to wait and find out, then, aren’t you.”  

Shoshanna snorted behind them. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “Please don’t have sex on the clothes.”  She walked out, pulling the door shut behind her.

Daphne panicked a little.  “Why would she say that?”

“She says that to everyone,” Rose replied dismissively.

“Bullshit.”  

“Yes, bullshit.”  

Daphne grew a little warm under her clothes.  “She can tell.”

Rose nodded, still drawing and not looking up.  “Yes, I imagine so.” She stopped and looked up at her then, as if suddenly realizing where the conversation had gotten to.  “Wait, _do_ you want to have sex on the clothing?”

Daphne reddened. “No.  I mean, yes. I mean, in it.  Well, partly in it but you know… obviously out of it…”   She frowned.

Rose looked at her fondly and stroked her burning cheek.  “It’s alright.” She didn’t need to say more. Daphne stopped panicking, though her heart still raced.  She wanted Rose, she knew she did, but was nervous too.

“I think,” Rose said, gently and quietly, “we should go and take some measurements.”

 

****

 

L.A.’s evening light was ruddy in the Daphne’s living room, warmly flooding the place through the massive windows lined with potted plants.  Rose had put on opera again. The shadows fell dramatically, and Daphne could have put the lights on, but didn’t, preferring the half-light and long shadows and red-gold in Rose’s hair.  She was lingering in her bedroom door, peering out at Rose leaning against the bar with her eyes closed, the measuring tape dangling from her fingers, seeming to be giving herself to the swells of the orchestra before the voices would come in.  Daphne trembled, remembering the last time they were alone together like this. She had peeled out of her clothes and now she walked into the living room in nothing but a slip, anxious and eager and nearly tripping over herself.

Rose opened her eyes and gazed at her when she was halfway across the room.  She held up a hand. “Stop right there.” Daphne paused, fingers laced together in front of her.  Rose tilted her head and looked at her for a long moment. “Lovely,” she sighed.

She came over and placed her hands on Daphne’s waist, kissed her once on the lips, light and brief, and then turned her toward the window.  She gave another long, appreciative look.

“You certainly got quite fit while you were in the suburbs,” she remarked finally.

Daphne blushed.  “Tammy is a beast. You wouldn’t know it but she’s really ripped under all those tame sweaters.”

Rose chuckled, and it was a sweet sound that made Daphne’s skin tingle.  “And she took you along with her, didn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah,” Daphne confirmed.  “Every day. Aerobics in the morning.  Running. Yoga. It was crazy.”

Rose strolled around behind her.  “Well, you’re none the worse for it.”  Daphne felt Rose’s fingers trip lightly across the span between her shoulder blades and the stab of lust that came over her was so strong it surprised her..  

“Do you like it?” Daphne whispered breathlessly.

“I do.  But it has changed your measurements a bit.”  

Quiet fell between them and she felt Rose’s hands, and the tape criss crossing her and laying against her skin in various places.  Between each measurement, a pause, as Rose was writing. Then she would measure the same place again, to be sure. The angelic mezzo-soprano of Maria Callas filled the room.

“Which opera is this from?” Daphne managed to ask, hardly able to breathe with Rose touching her.

“ _Samson et Dalila,_ ” Rose replied.  She felt Rose’s hands slide around to her front, felt the tape wrap around her waist.  

“What’s this aria called?”

“ _Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix,_ ” Rose murmured, pulling the tape closer to her skin.

Daphne loved to hear Rose speaking French. “What does it mean?”

“My heart opens at the sound of your voice.”  Rose paused, and then wrote something down. And then she pulled the tape around once again, measured, and then let it fall away.

“What’s she saying?”

Rose came around in front of her, and brought the tape around her ribcage, and looked up into her eyes.  

 _"My heart opens to your voice_  
_Like the flowers open_  
_To the kisses of the dawn!_  
_But, oh my beloved,_  
_To better dry my tears,_  
_Let your voice speak again!"_

“Oh…” Daphne sighed, and closed her eyes.  She felt Rose kiss her softly just below the base of her throat, and she let out a quiet moan.  Her hands hesitantly settled on Rose’s hips to pull her closer.

Rose laughed softly.  “We’re not done,” she whispered.

She stepped back a little, pulled the tape around Daphne’s chest where her bosom was the most ample, tugged it flush against her, and then released.  

They stood in the light that was deepening its ruddy color and Rose let the tape flutter to the floor and dropped her book beside it.  She kissed the base of Daphne’s throat again, her hands sliding around to the small of her back. Daphne melted. Her hands drew Rose close against her and she sighed. She smelled Rose’s perfume, suddenly stronger.  Her knees trembled.

Rose’s warm, soft mouth worked slowly across her chest, until Daphne’s breath became thick and full of wanting.  Her heart sped up, anxious as a coked-up rabbit. “Rose…” she sighed, and her voice shook.

Rose stopped and looked up at her again.  “Is it alright?” She was tender, concerned.

Daphne nodded.  “Yes. It’s just… so much…”  

Rose stroked her hair. “I know,” she whispered. She stroked Daphne’s bare shoulder.  “You should put something on, love. You’ll catch your death standing around like that.”  

Daphne was both disappointed and relieved.  She kissed Rose once more, and disappeared off to her room to choke down a little sob of anxiety and then slip into a red silk dressing gown with lilies embroidered on it.  She wiped her eyes quickly, and went back out to the living room.

Rose eyed her choice and nodded approvingly.  “Lovely.”

“It’s hand embroidered silk,” Daphne said with pride.  “Got it when I was filming the last Cameron Caine in Tokyo.”  

They curled up on the couch together under a soft blanket and watched the original “Casino Royale.”  Rose, like a perfect gentleman, went home afterwards in a car that Daphne called for her.

 

*****

 

Rose had sensed that mixed with Daphne’s desperate attraction was a fair amount of panic.  Daphne knew that this situation was intolerable and had to be fixed but had no idea how to go about it.  She decided to leave Rose be the next morning, apart from a few texts.

_Rosey Rose. I really enjoyed being with you last night.  I’m sorry it ended so anticlimactic._

 

_Nonsense love.  I don’t want to push you for more than you want to give._

 

_But I want to give a lot._

 

_Yes, yes, macushla.  But we have time._

 

***

 

The red carpet was looming, and Daphne was having lunch with Chris again.  They drank organic margaritas and had gluten free tempeh burritos at a place in the Arts District.  They were both pleased to take note of the paps snapping shots of them on their way in.

“...and I’m a huge fan of this travel blog…” Chris was saying.

“Which one?”

“Well, it’s a vlog… this hilarious Asian chick who goes all over the world and like, does street magic and does like, pranks on people but then she fixes everything at the end, and–”

“Oh my god,” Daphne exclaimed.  “You watch Con-Job International?”  It was Constance’s travel vlog.

“Yeah,” he said excitedly, “isn’t she the best?”

Daphne laughed.  “She’s nuts. I know her actually.  We’re pretty good friends.”

Chris pounded his knee with a fist.  “No way! Can you introduce me? I love her!”

“Love her how? I mean, she has a girlfriend.”

“Ah, whatever,” Chris said, “it’s not like that. I’m just a fan.  Who’s her girlfriend?”

“She’s the editor in chief of this lesbian magazine that’s coming out soon.”

“Cool.”  Chris seemed all pumped up, like a kid who’d just been told Christmas was coming a week early.  “So how’s the fitting going with Rose Weill?”

Daphne launched into a ten minute explanation of their trip to Shoshanna’s and how the room with all of the sixties spy stuff had seemed to get Rose very excited.  He was smiling the whole time as he listened. He took her hand over the table, and apologized, “Sorry, I forgot this is supposed to be a date.”

“Right,” she agreed with a nervous laugh. It felt wrong.  She wanted to be doing this with Rose. She wanted to not care who saw her.  Why was she hiding anyway?

“Anyway, that sounds cool,” he went on. “The clothes in those old Bond movies were really great.  It’s an awesome inspiration.”

She nodded.  “Yeah, it was a lot of fun.  We got to wander around and see some of the other costumes too!  Have you ever been to Shoshanna’s?”

He shook his head.  “No. It sounds amazing though.”

“Yeah!  It is! There’s all kinds of stuff from movies that you’d never imagine would have needed to be rescued.  Like, iconic stuff! We had a lot of fun. And then after, we took measurements and then watched a Bond flick and it was just so great.”

Chris looked at her curiously.  “Sounds like you guys are becoming friendly.”

Daphne nodded.  “Yeah, kind of. I mean, you know.  She’s dressed me a bunch of times now.  And we, uh. You know. We just have a lot of similar tastes and things.  So.” She trailed off, feeling suddenly awkward. She wondered if she had given herself away.  Was this what it was like, being “closeted”? She didn’t care for it.

“Well, that’s terrific.  Maybe you should have her come to the after parties with us.”  

“Oh!  Yeah, that’s a great idea.”  

Daphne needed guidance.  She could only think of two people who could give it.  

 

  
******

 

Deb handed Daphne a martini with a couple of olives in it.  It was three in the afternoon, but Daphne didn’t argue with Deb.  What would be the point? Deb had taken time out of her busy day of doing whatever the hell Deb did these days just because Daphne had called her up in distress because “things, uh…. Didn’t happen last night.”

“Where’s the Mrs.?” Daphne inquired. She looked around Deb and Lou’s L.A. pad, which was a modest but beautifully funky condo near the water.  Lou’s touch was evident in the decoration choices, which included little accents of chrome and animal prints that somehow worked even though Daphne normally hated both of those things.

“She’ll be here any minute,” Deb replied.  She sat down with her own martini and looked at Daphne patiently.  “So?”

Daphne sighed.  “I’m just… I need advice.  Or… I don’t know. Something.”

Deb didn’t say anything.

“I just … Rose is here in L.A. and I don’t know what to do with myself.  Or with her. I mean…”

“She’s supposed to be here to dress you and you’d rather she was undressing you,” Deb supplied helpfully.

Daphne nodded.  “But I just … you know.  I’ve never been down this road before and I’m afraid I’m going to screw it up.”

Deb nodded thoughtfully.  “Well, what would you do in bed with a guy?”  

Daphne sighed.  “Well, that’s just it.  I know the mechanics of it.  I feel like I could watch some porn or something to figure out the mechanics of being with a woman, you know?”  

“So, that’s not the thing making you nervous.”

“Well, it is making me nervous.  It’s just not the only thing. And I’m not even sure it’s the biggest thing.”  

The door opened and Daphne looked up.  Lou came in wearing leather riding pants and a tank top, looking breezy and calm in a way that made it clear she’d just been out tooling along the beach.  

“Nice ride, babe?” Deb inquired.

Lou nodded.  “Yeah,” she drawled, “it was great.”  She took a beer out of the fridge and opened it, then came over and leaned down and kissed Deb.  

“You smell like the ocean,” Deb observed with appreciation.

Lou winked at her.  She turned to Daphne, then.  “Hi, you. Heard you were coming by.  Things going alright?”

Daphne shrugged.

“She needs a little… guidance,” Deb supplied, putting a little extra weight on the last word.

Lou pursed her mouth for a moment.  “I see. Well, I think we can help, probably.”   She sat down on Deb’s lap, facing Daphne. “A little bit rattled about the lady-lovin’, are we?”

Daphne nodded.  “Yeah. I could … look, I’m an actor, I’ve made out with plenty of people I wasn’t really into, but that’s not the problem here.”

Lou chuckled in a knowing way that made Daphne feel inexplicably embarrassed.  “Have you ever been with anyone that you _were_ into?”

Daphne froze for a moment, thinking back over every relationship she’d had.  Nice guys, interesting guys sometimes, but had she really been _into_ any of them? She wasn’t even sure.

Deb seized on Daphne’s awkward silence.  “Ah. Well there you go. That’s the real problem,” Deb announced.  

The doorbell rang.

Daphne looked up.  “Who’s that?”

Lou got up.  “I’ll just go see.”  She sauntered to the door.

Deb leaned forward in her chair, gesturing with her martini as she spoke.  It became clear that this was probably her second one, possibly third. “Listen.  Movie star. I called Rose and told her that she needed to come over here because clearly, what was needed was an intervention.”

“What?!”

“I did,” Deb went on.  “Because I am not going to have Rose in town with you for all this time when you both want each other and have it not happen just because you can’t communicate.”  Rose walked in with Lou. Deb grinned at Lou. “Right honey?”

Lou shook her head.  “I didn’t really hear what you said.”

“Just say right.”

“OK, right.”  Lou pulled up a chair for Rose.  “Rose, you want a whiskey? We’ve got a twelve year old Connemara single malt.”  

“Rubbish,” Rose said.

“Sixteen year old Bushmill’s, then?”

“That’s better.”

Lou poured Rose a Bushmill’s while Deb went on.  “So, I called Rose and told her that I wanted to facilitate you two…”  She gestured in the air. “Because, restrained courtly love via letters is terrific, it’s beautiful, but I don’t think that’s enough for either of you and someone had to just help you two get this all sorted out.”  

Rose took the whiskey and swigged about half of it.  “Thanks.”

Daphne touched Rose’s arm.  “Did you know that’s why she was bringing you here?”

Rose shrugged.  “I thought as much.”

Deb waved at Daphne.  “Drink, drink,” she urged.

Daphne drank.

Lou sighed, laughed, shook her head, and sat down in Deb’s lap again.  

“So,” Deb launched into a new thought, or rather, reconnected to her previous one.  “Daphne, I asked you if you’ve ever been into any of the people you’ve been with and you froze up like your hard drive crashed.”

Daphne shrugged.  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I really have been, actually.  It was just what I was doing at the time. I didn’t think about it.”

“Well, that’s everything wrong right there,” Deb declared.

Daphne drank a little more.  

Deb shifted her attention to Rose, now.  “So, Rose. I never assume anything so let’s roll the tape back a little and talk about where you’re at with all this.  Are you also scared of lady sex?”

Daphne flushed.

Rose cleared her throat, drank a little and then answered, “No, not as such.”

Deb nodded.  “Been there done that?”

“You could say.”

“Alright then.”  She looked back at Daphne. “So then, Daphne, why do you think that, uh, things didn’t happen last night?”

Daphne peered at Deb over the rim of her large martini glass and took several swallows before answering.  “I… I don’t know. I couldn’t make a… a move.”

Deb nodded.  “Rose, babe. Why do you think things didn’t happen?”  

Rose sighed.  “She seemed a bit nervous.  I didn’t want to push her for something she wasn’t ready for.”

Lou and Deb nodded to each other.  Lou got up and grabbed herself another beer.  She mixed two more martinis in silence, then handed one to Deb and one to Daphne.  She took Rose’s tumbler and refilled it.

Deb drank a little more and looked at Daphne.  “You’re nervous, ‘cause you don’t know what it’s supposed to be so you’re afraid to fuck it up.”  She looked at Rose. “And you’re nervous ‘cause you don’t want to ruin something by going too fast.”

Rose and Daphne both nodded, drinking faster.  Daphne felt the warm alcohol flush rising in her cheeks and her neck.  Rose, normally pale as porcelain, had started to get a bit of color as well.  

Lou and Deb shared a look, shaking their heads in sympathy.  “Thank God we didn’t have to go through that,” Lou said.

Deb nodded.  “Mm, yeah. By the time I was out of lockup, boy was I ready for you.”  She had a kind of hungry look when she said this that made Daphne shiver a little inside.  

“You wrote me some good letters.”  

“Real good letters,” Deb agreed.  They kissed, and it went on for a little too long.  Rose and Daphne squirmed in their seats. They glanced over at each other.  They looked back at Deb and Lou.

After a moment of watching them making out in the chair, Daphne cleared her throat.  “Um, so…”

Lou broke away first, and turned back around in her seat. She lounged back against Deb.  “Sorry,” she said, not seeming particularly sorry.

“It’s kinda how it is sometimes,” Deb explained, her arms sliding around Lou’s waist again. “You just lose yourself in each other.  When it’s good, anyway. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” She leaned forward a little and nibbled on Lou’s shoulder.

The little affections between them did not escape Daphne’s attention.  She took in each one, Deb nibbling at Lou’s bare bicep, Lou squeezing Deb’s knee while they talked.  It should be awkward, but she was a little drunk and more than a little curious now. She was perversely glad that Deb had made the executive decision to make them sit down together.

Rose reached over lazily and took Daphne’s hand.  She was looking a little blurred, all her sharp edges smoothed out by the generous amount of whiskey.  “I do want you, in case that’s unclear,” she whispered.

Lou tilted her head back and rested it on Deb’s shoulder.  Deb nibbled a little on the side of her neck. She glanced up.  “That’s good,” she muttered, “just be honest with each other, that’s how you get through this.”  

Daphne laced her fingers through Rose’s and smiled tipsily at her.  “I want you too,” she whispered, “I just … it means something, the idea of being with you.  It’s important to me. I want it to be… right. I don’t want to mess it up. But I don’t know what it… ought to be.”

Deb stopped kissing Lou’s neck and looked up.  Lou gave a little whine. “Listen,” Deb said. “I have a thought.  It’s… totally up to… well, you, obviously, honey, but you know. If you guys want.  It might help.”

Lou sat up and twisted halfway around to look at Deb.  “What’s that?”

“Well,” Deb began slowly, “the big holdup here is that Daphne is afraid of sex because she doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be like.  And not just the mechanics of being with a woman but just…. What it looks like to be with someone when you have real feelings for the person in question.”

“Uh huh….” Lou prompted.  A smile played around her mouth.  She seemed to already know where Deb was going and didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, why don’t we, uh … show them?”

Lou’s feline eyes gleamed.  “Really? Haven’t done that in a hot minute.”

Deb nodded enthusiastically.  “I know. And this is for a much better reason than last time.  Look, we’re helping people.”

Daphne shook her fuzzy head to clear it, let go of Rose’s hand, and leaned forward in her seat.  “Wait. Um, show us? What… what do you mean show us?”

Deb looked at her fondly, patiently.  “I mean, show you. I mean, you two…” She gestured between Rose and Daphne.  “...get to watch me and Lou. If you want.”

Rose and Daphne looked at each other, and she saw about fifteen different reactions cross Rose’s face in a matter of a split second.  “Can we… um… talk about it?”

Lou stood up.  “Yeah. You guys talk about it.  We’re gonna go into the bedroom. If you decide you want to come along, that’s where we’ll be.”

Deb got up and took Lou’s hand, and they walked off down the hall together.  “Don’t take too long to decide, though,” Deb called over her shoulder.

Daphne’s heart was palpitating wildly.  She looked desperately at Rose, wanting her to make the decision for her.  “Rose… what… what do you think? I mean… do you want to?”

Rose smiled.  “It’s for you, my dear.  If you think it’ll help, I’d love for us to go in there.  If you think the whole bloody thing’s mad, we can leave now.”

Daphne frowned and grasped Rose’s shoulders.  “But what do you think?”

Rose smiled gently.  “I think they’re both gorgeous.  I think they’re very much in love.  I think watching them together would be a thing of incredible beauty.  But it’s only if you want to.”

Daphne turned six shades of pink before answering.  “I … I only recently had the thought that they probably had amazing sex.”

Rose chuckled.

“Porn won’t teach me the the stuff I really want to know, not all of it,” she went on, nervously.  “I just don’t want it to be… I mean, for you…”

Rose nodded. “Are you afraid it’ll make me uncomfortable at all?”

Daphne sighed.  “I… yeah, maybe.”  

Rose took Daphne’s face between her hands, and looked her dead in the eye, and told her, “They’re giving you --and us, by extension-- a gift.  If you’re not ready, that’s one thing. But don’t shy away from it because of how you’re afraid I’ll feel about it. I’m saying yes. I’ve been around a bit, you know, and I think we’re all adult enough that this can happen and we can all still be mates afterward.”  

Daphne shivered once, from head to toe, not really believing what was about to happen.  “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Alright. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

 

****

 

Deb and Lou’s bedroom was dim and smelled like some calming, delicate, but not particularly feminine perfume.  Actually, it was almost more like the really good incense that they burned at the Zen monastery she’d visited in Tokyo.  They were lounging on the bed, finishing their drinks and speaking softly to each other. They looked up when Daphne and Rose came in, each carrying fresh drinks.  

“Decided to join us, then,” Deb remarked.  

Lou pointed to a couple of comfortable looking stuffed victorian chairs beside the bed.  “Get comfortable.”

Daphne sat down, drink in one hand, the other hand tangled in Rose’s.  Her heart was hammering in her chest.

Deb and Lou kissed a long, lazy kiss.  “Music?” Lou inquired after a moment.

“Oh yeah,” Deb said instantly.  “You know what I like, babe.”

Lou smirked.  “Alexa,” she said, “play Neil Diamond.”

Daphne couldn’t restrain herself.  “Neil Diamond? Seriously?”

Lou fixed her with a look, amused but firmly in control.  She just put a finger to her lips. Deb lifted a finger, about to explain or chastise or object to Daphne’s comment, but Lou just took her hand, kissed her gently, and said, “Sssh.”

Music drifted from the speaker beside the bed.  

When Daphne thought of Neil Diamond, she always thought of those super cheesy anthems like “Coming to America” and “Sweet Caroline”.  But she didn’t recognize this song. It was slow, pulsing, with a kind of restrained fire that she didn’t expect.

 

 _“_ _Holly holy eyes_

_Dream of only me_

_Where I am, what I am_

_What I believe in_

_Holly holy…”_

 

There was a raggedness in his voice, a reverence.  It was the same reverence that she saw in the way that Deb kissed Lou, and then slipped her hands under Lou’s shirt and lifted it slowly, gently, over her head and tossed it away.  The black sports bra underneath followed. Daphne heard Rose gasp quietly, and for all she knew, she’d done the same. Lou was breathtaking. It was evident that Deb felt it too, no matter that she had seen Lou this way a hundred times.  She touched Lou with a care and tenderness that Daphne had not thought she even possessed.

“Christ, she’s a beauty,” Rose whispered.  

Daphne only could nod mutely and squeeze Rose’s hand tighter.

Deb lowered her head and kissed each of Lou’s small, round breasts with their stiff, pale pink nipples. Lou’s nipples, Daphne could see, wanted to be kissed, but Deb was not in a rush.  Her dark hair slipped out of its ponytail and a few strands fell over her face as she spent a moment there, kissing softly. Lou made soft sighing sounds.

 

 _“_ _Holly holy dream_

_Wanting only you_

_And she comes_

_And I run just like the wind will_

_Holly holy…”_

 

Daphne had never kissed someone’s body that way.  Had never wanted to. She didn’t think that she’d ever been kissed that way either. She couldn’t look away from what was happening in front of her, but she whispered to Rose, “Would you like to be kissed that way?”

Rose could only swear quietly under her breath.

The music’s quiet intensity built.

Deb nudged Lou onto her back, and then peeled her out of her leather pants.  A pair of very small leopard print panties went with them. Deb stopped again, hunched on the bed between Lou’s long, sprawled out legs.  She spent a moment looking at Lou as though she were the only thing in the universe, and Lou looked back at her the same way. It didn’t matter that Daphne and Rose were there.  They were sharing something tremendous. They were in the middle of an earth-shaking love.

 

_“Sing a song_

_(Sing) Sing a song of songs_

_(Sing) Sing it out_

_Sing it strong (Sing, sing, sing, sing)_

_Yeah_

_Yeah…”_

 

The intensity of the music lifted, and she watched them carried by it.  Deb scrambled out of her top and fell onto Lou’s body, kissing her stomach and hips with the hunger of a starving person.  She was devoting herself to giving everything to Lou, her wife, her lover, her partner, and what was more stunning still was how willingly Lou gave herself.  On some level, Daphne supposed that she had expected Lou to be sort of rough and playful and macho, but she watched her, on her back, sighing soft and high, surrendering herself to Deb’s passion. Her eyes were closed, her long, lithe form loose and open to the torrent of kisses.  

Deb paused for a moment, and lifted her head, and they looked at each other.  It was like they were looking into each other’s souls. They were seeing each other, not just physically naked, but emotionally naked.  And they loved what they saw.

Daphne squeezed Rose’s hand so hard she feared she’d break it.  “I had no idea…” she whispered. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Rose squeezed back just as hard.  “It can.”

 

_“Call the sun in the dead of the night_

_And the sun's gonna rise in the sky_

_Touch a man who can't walk upright_

_And that lame man, he's gonna fly_

_And I fly_

_And I fly…”_

 

Daphne had never seen anything like them.  The song lifted up like a prayer. The gospel choir made it damned close to divine.

Deb clambered up Lou’s body to kiss her, deep and soft, and then one of her hands slid down between their bodies and disappeared.  Lou gasped softly. They grinned stupidly at each other.

“Yeah?” Deb whispered.

“Yeah,” Lou whispered back, nodding vigorously.  

Daphne thought she might faint.  She couldn’t tell exactly what Deb’s hand was doing, but guessed she had fingers inside Lou.  She watched the slow, deep rhythm of Deb’s whole body, not just her arm, but her whole body, moving against Lou’s, and Lou’s hips moving in response.  They were lean, and graceful, and sensual, and Daphne was transfixed. And aroused. Very, very aroused.

Every thrust seemed to illuminate Lou’s face with pleasure, and Deb looked as though nothing in the world meant more to her than seeing Lou that way.  Probably, Daphne thought, because that was so. They moved together, becoming a force of nature. When Lou came, it was pure, and holy. Daphne nearly felt the need to cross herself.  

Deb was smiling down at Lou, and murmured, “I love you.”

Lou had sexy, sleepy eyes now.  “Yeah,” she teased gently, “you’re alright too.”

They kissed.  

Daphne realized that she was probably cutting off Rose’s circulation, because Rose was cutting off hers.  She released her grip and withdrew her hand for a moment to stretch it out a little and waggle her fingers.  

“So you see, kid,” Deb said, not really looking away from Lou, “it can be like that.  That’s not about the mechanics. That’s just about opening yourself up, being vulnerable, and showing each other how you feel.  If you can do that, the mechanics aren’t a big deal.”

“I feel like I should applaud or something,” Daphne said, a little breathless.

“Nah,” Lou said.  “Just close the door on your way out, yeah?”

Daphne and Rose left the apartment a little while later.  Neither one of them was doing a very good job of walking.

  


*****

 

They stood together in the street for a little bit.  The sun was going down. It took Daphne a moment to realize that she’d not called either of them a car.  

“I’m sorry.  I should have thought of it.”

Rose winked at her.  “I reckon your brain’s a little scrambled.”

Daphne smiled.  “Yeah, maybe a little.”  She took out her phone. “I’m gonna… um.”  She tried to figure out how to ask what she wanted to ask.  “Should I order one car or two?”

Rose chuckled.  “You mean am I coming home with you?”

Daphne nodded.  

“Well, we’re both a bit drunk.  So, I’m going to go back to the hotel to work on your design.  I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and show you. And then… we’ll see. I want you to take a moment to digest what just happened.”

Daphne understood.  She realized that Rose didn’t want their first time to be with both of them under the influence, and she didn’t either.  She smiled. “Tomorrow, then.”

  


*****

 

Daphne was really out of her head at lunch with Chris the next day.  The Cameron Caine premier was only a couple of days away and she knew Rose would be able to get her outfit done in that time but she was nervous.  And she was still thinking about what she had watched the night before.

“...so Brian Dennehy’s banging on my trailer door, and it’s like two in the morning, and–”  Chris paused and peered at her. “Are you OK, Daph? You seem a little out of it today.”

She shook her head.  “Sorry, yeah. I’m a… a little distracted.”

He seemed genuinely concerned.  “What’s up? You OK?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know. I mean, did you ever see something that just completely upended everything you ever thought was true about something?”

Chris frowned.  “Well, that’s pretty vague.  I don’t know. What happened?”

Daphne sighed.  She really didn’t know that she wanted to get into this with Chris.  But she also didn’t know who the hell else she could talk to about it at that moment either.  Maybe she could dance around it. “I don’t know. I mean, when you were with Rainy, were you like … _into_ her?”

He looked at her, confused.  “I mean… yeah. You mean, like, sexually?  Or what?”

“Yeah sexually but like, emotionally too?”

“Sure.  Why do you think I haven’t dated since we broke up?”  

“Okay, but I mean, like… when you were with her was it like a religious experience?”  

Chris laughed and scratched his head.  “Is there… is there something you want to tell me?”

Daphne groaned.  “Not really. It’s just I think I’ve been doing sex completely wrong.”

Chris snorted. “Doing it wrong how?”

“Just… not having … emotional…”  She scrounged for words to explain it.

“Intimacy?” he suggested.

She pounded the table once.  “Yes! Intimacy! I haven’t had intimacy.”

He nodded slowly.  “So … is there someone in particular that you _want_ to have intimacy with?”

Daphne sighed.  “Yes. And I’m going to, I think.  I just. It was a revelation that I didn’t have it before.  I just figured that out last night and I am SHOOK, okay? Shook.”

Chris took her hand in both of his.  He was good, ever mindful of the paps with the telescopic lenses.  “Daph. We’ve known each other a long time. You know I won’t judge you no matter what.  But, if I guess who it is, will you tell me if I’m right?”

Daphne shrugged.  “Yeah, okay.”

He took a breath, seeming hesitant to say it.  “Is it Rose Weill?”

She stiffened.  “How did you know?”

He smiled gently at her.  “Daph, the way you talk about her… I thought that something was up the first time we had lunch.  I never see you look like you did when you were talking about her. And I thought, hmm. And then last time, same thing.”  

“I’m not gay,” she said quickly, reflexively.

Chris sighed.  “Daph, it’s ok.  I don’t care what you are, or what you want to call yourself.  But it’s so obvious she makes you happy. And I think that’s really great.  You should be happy. You never do that. You never give yourself a break.”

Daphne gave him a slightly wounded look.  “Yes I do.”

He snorted.  “No you don’t.  You work more than Parker Posey in the late nineties.”

She smiled meekly at him.  

Recognition crossed his face.  “So that’s why you needed a date for Cameron Caine.  You don’t want to validate the rumors so you needed a beard.”  

She shrugged.  “Is that bad?”

He waved a hand dismissively.  “Look, everyone in this town does things how they feel they have to to make it work for them.  I’m not judging you. I just feel like… I shouldn’t be your date. You should be taking the woman you love.  And you know, I get why you maybe don’t want to take the chance, or why you feel like you have to hide–”

“I’m not hiding,” she objected.  

“Yeah you are.” He patted her hand.  “And that’s not a judgment. Like I said, I have reasons for needing to do this whole thing too.  But… you’re a good person, Daph. You deserve to just enjoy being in love.  And you deserve to be seen, you know, for who you are.”

Daphne felt like the floor had dropped out from under her.  Take Rose? To the red carpet? Debut this brand new love under a white-hot spotlight?  Would Rose even want that?

“I can’t just leave you in the lurch though,” she said.  

He grinned. “Sure you can.  I’ll find something else to do.  I just need to be seen out and about and having a great time, that’s all.”

Daphne’s pulse battered the insides of her veins.  Was he serious?

Was she?

“I don’t think so…” she said, but she wasn’t really sure about it.

But Chris was sanguine about it.  “Whatever, but I’m just saying it’s no big deal if you change your mind.”

What would it be like, she wondered, to really be seen for who she was?  Chris meant the public when he said that, but Daphne could only think of Deb and Lou, seeing the nakedness of each other's hearts and souls last night.  Was she ready for any of it?

 

 

******

 

 

Rose’s design was incredible.  Daphne’s breathing stopped when she saw it.  It encapsulated everything about the Cameron Caine character that Daphne loved, but the real Cameron, from the books.  The one whose essence Daphne had worked so hard to breathe into what she did on screen.

They agreed that they would wait until after the premiere to do anything more than kiss.  There was too much work for Rose in just two days, and neither of them wanted to rush things, despite both jumping out of their skin from wanting each other.  During their very long fittings, things did often break down into increasingly heated kisses, and it no doubt slowed their work. But they managed to keep their pace, more or less.  And she loved watching Rose work. That, too, had an intimacy to it.

She spent a lot of the time fretting, though, wondering whether Chris was right.  Whether she should go ahead and just do what she wanted, in her heart of hearts, to do.  

Rose was putting the final stitches on it a mere two hours before Daphne needed to be getting into a limo.  It was a photo finish, so to speak.

Rose kissed her for a long moment.  “I’ll be watching you,” she whispered with a pained smile.

Daphne stroked her cheek.  “No you won’t.”

“What?”

Daphne looked her up and down, trying not to think too hard about undressing her.  “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

  


*****

  


From the L.A. Times, a few days later:

> “Skeptics and fans alike walked out of the Cameron Caine premier last night raving about the final chapter in Daphne Kluger’s spy series.  The suspenseful, stylish thrillers have been well-received, despite some audiences’ complaints about the films’ erasure of the titular character’s bisexual identity and gender fluidity…”

 

From the Daily News:

> “Cameron Caine in the books is this complex, weird character, she has a masculine side that’s also very sexy, and she’s not necessarily sympathetic, but you root for her.  Daphne Kluger manages to telegraph a lot of that vibe despite the constraints of the so-so script which doesn’t really spell these things out for the viewer…”
> 
>  

From Tom and Lorenzo’s blog:

> “So, we saved the best pic for last.  Daphne Kluger showed up to the Cameron Caine premier last night wearing Rose Weill.  And when we say that, we mean she showed up wearing Rose Weill. ON. HER. ARM. What a power move.  What a goddess. Daphne, sweetie, you’re doing amazing and we’re so proud of you.
> 
> Now, we should add that Daphne Kluger was also wearing Rose Weill as in, she was wearing her design.  That, too, was brilliant.
> 
> Daphne Kluger was dressed in a white tuxedo inspired by James Bond’s iconic number from Thunderball.  But it was cut flawlessly for her shape, and there was a lot of subtle detail to it, like the fabric choices had very subtle patterns to them, the textures she went with on the lapels, the tie, the whole package.  She absolutely slayed. Honestly, if someone made me look that good, I’d probably fall in love with them too.”

 

From entertainment.com, on “Hanging Chad,” the blog of Chad Chillicothe: 

> “I honestly enjoyed watching the moment on the red carpet when Daphne Kluger got out of her white limo, and she was wearing that amazing white tux, and then Rose Weill got out after her, and they walked that red carpet together.  One, because it was just a little bit of a surprise, a little bit of a ‘wow’ moment. And two, because for once, it was my colleague David Welch’s turn to embarrass himself in an interview with Daphne Kluger.
> 
>  
> 
> David:  ...and here we have Daphne Kluger, the film’s star, and … is this Rose Weill, who designed your outfit tonight?”
> 
>  
> 
> Daphne:  Yes it is, David.  
> 
>  
> 
> David:  Now, we had heard Chris Oak was gonna be on the carpet with you tonight, is that right?
> 
>  
> 
> Daphne:  Yes, David, but I’ve decided to bring Rose as my date instead.
> 
>  
> 
> David: Great!  Daphne Kluger and her gal pal, designer Rose Weill, who designed this fantastic–”
> 
>  
> 
> Daphne:  No David, she’s my date.
> 
>  
> 
> David:  Your date?  (That blank, “I’m sorry?” look, ah, I know it well)
> 
>  
> 
> Daphne:  Yes. My date.  (She’s looked at me like that before and I wanted to DIE)
> 
>  
> 
> David:  (trying to recover)  Great! Okay…
> 
>  
> 
> Daphne:  People are gay, David.
> 
>  
> 
> I think we’ve all seen Daphne Kluger evolving over the last year into a different type of actor, and a different type of star, than what we’ve seen from her in the past.  And I have to be honest, I’m kind of hooked.”

 

From the L.A. Times, gossip column:

> “Despite rumors that he would be attending the Cameron Caine red carpet with Daphne Kluger, _Carbondale Blues_ star Chris Oak was seen at an In-n-Out Burger in Redondo this morning at 2 a.m. with none other than YouTube sensation Con-Job International and her partner, magazine editor Amita Sengupta.”
> 
>  

******

 

Rose and Daphne kissed in the back of the limo all the way back to Daphne’s.  They didn’t even care about breathing, they didn’t have to restrain themselves because they weren’t waiting for anything anymore.  Daphne had run out of excuses and all she wanted now was Rose, and as much Rose as she could get. And every few moments they'd pause, and look at each other.  Rose's soul had always been there, waiting for Daphne to acknowledge what she saw.  She was beautiful.  And the look in her eyes when she looked at Daphne told Daphne that Rose saw her for everything she was.

"I know the poet is you," Rose whispered against her cheek at one point.  

"How?" 

"I could always see your heart in those lines."

 

A text came in from Frieda:

_Mazel tov, honey, but a little heads up next time please?_

 

A short while later, in Daphne’s Beverly Hills bungalow, an aria drifted out of the bedroom window:

 

 _"Ainsi qu'on voit des blés_  
_les épis onduler_  
_sous la brise légère,_  
_ainsi frémit mon cœur,_  
_prêt à se consoler,_  
_à ta voix qui m'est chère!"_

**Author's Note:**

> There is still a plus 1 installment coming, in which there's a final sense to be explored and a few loose ends to wrap up.
> 
> The English translation of the lyrics to the aria at the end:  
> "Like one sees the blades  
> Of wheat that wave  
> In the light wind,  
> So trembles my heart,  
> Ready to be consoled,  
> By your voice that is so dear to me!"


End file.
